You Can’t Have It All

But you can have the wind
And its push like a supporting friend that keeps you going.
You can have the glare of a four-month-old puppy,
It’s pure innocence.
You can have a day off from work when you’re sick
And waste it doing nothing.
You can have a mean sister when you’re young,
And a nice sister when you’re older.
You can have a great Saturday with your friends,
And a lousy Monday with the same people.
You can have a hot pizza,
Dripping with cheese,
And regret that you didn’t wait for the scorching food to cool off.
You can have a game of basketball,
Where you miss every shot,
And enjoy the whole match.
You can fall from your bike onto a pile of mud,
And simply laugh it off.
You can have a homework assignment,
Which will take you hours to do,
And spend the day sleeping and watching TV.
You can have your heart melt with a video of a puppy on YouTube,
Like chocolate in a microwave.
You can spend a week trekking in the mountains,
With great views of the Himalayas,
And the highlight is coming home to your warm bed.
You can have your heart broken by somebody thousands of times,
And mended by someone else.
You can have these things and many more,
But can you exceed your stock and store?

Nugget – Benjamin Moore AC-9

I breathe the air of this desolate diner,
And trudge upon it’s dusty base.
No other restaurant was any finer,
Than my daddy’s favorite place.

We went there twice a week,
And ordered the same thing.
Talked to the waitress with the rosy cheek,
As my daddy took off his wedding ring.

The white floor was now gray with dust,
The sand now covered my daddy’s leaving ground,
The one where he left me,
I wish he’d stayed around.

They dubbed me what I ate,
Every time I went.
I ordered and didn’t hesitate,
And only she would have it sent.
She would bring me the plate,
Of those golden nuggets,
I’d eat it all as they would confabulate,
In the end it seemed unreal.

The white floor was now gray with dust,
The sand now covered my daddy’s leaving ground,
The one where he left me,
I wish he’d stayed around.

He told me was going,
He told me not where he would dwell,
He left without me knowing,
He smiled and wished me well.

I sat in my booth for what seemed my entire life,
Trying to figure out what I had done wrong,
I carved his name into the table with my knife,
And left crying.

Now, revisiting the place of my childhood shame,
I scanned the vacant room and at the booth I gazed,
And saw my daddy’s name,
But I stepped back and shook my head, amazed.
I sat down on the floor crying as I saw what had been written.
Right under my daddy’s name was one word.
Nugget.

No other restaurant was finer,
Than my daddy’s favorite place.

Where I'm From

I am from the Middle East,
From deserts and ruins.

I am from the heavily guarded house, with four different guards and spikes surrounding.
From the smoke, who's scent has come from far off in the distance.

I am from the small patch of grass,
The oasis between the sand.

I am from the Colombian groups and Bolivian friends.

From being able to do anything,
And from being cut from the soccer team.

I am from the catholic family,
The family that goes to church once every two years.

I'm from Colombians,
And a long family tree painted with yellow, blue, and red leaves.
But I'm from kebabs and shawermas.

From the time my sister fell off a camel,
The time my dad rolled down a sand dune,
And the time we watched shooting stars deep into the night, on top of the orange boulder, listening to the howls of the coyotes.

I am from those moments.
A latin tree cast into the East.
Where I am from is not where my sprout emerged from the ground, but where my branches reached out to the world.

Book Review: Left for Dead

Beck Weathers titled his book “Left for Dead” mostly because on his expedition to Everest, he was literally left for dead. After being found and left on the cold ground with his dead friend, he got up as “a dead man walking” and stumbled back into camp. Although the title had a literal aspect, this event was reflected on his relationship with his wife and kids.

This memoir is about Beck Weathers, a middle-aged man trying to find a distraction from his suicidal thoughts. That is why Beck turned to mountain climbing. And although this was a way to keep him from killing himself, it was also tearing him apart from his family.
This book is put into several forms. It ranges from his encounters on Everest and his present tense thoughts. There are also parts where the people in the memoir write, such as his wife, the person who saved him, etc.

In his memoir, Beck realizes that he really does want to live, and that he has so much to live for. This memoir is Beck’s revival. Much like most details in this book, his revival can be related to his encounter on Everest and in his personal life.

This book would be recommendable to mountaineers, but not to those looking for a meaningful book that captivates them. To me, this book was slow and, even though I could relate to some of the places he went in Nepal, (e.g. The Ciwek Clinic.)it was also uninteresting.

Lines We Love:
“I had a lot of class, all of it low.” This was referring to how he acted around his family before his realization.

What I Believe

By Pablo E. Castillo

I believe in a beautiful sunrise,
But only when the world is still asleep.

I believe in dreams and nightmares,
But only because they both exist in the real world.

I believe in a better tomorrow.

I believe in mistakes,
Because the mistakes you make will define you, and make you a better person.

I believe we all lie to ourselves,
Because nobody likes the truth.

I believe that the smallest things can change a person,
Like a small tug of a pin can cause an explosion.

I believe in hope.

I believe in free speech,
But not when the words spoken are filled with threats.

And I believe in a peaceful battle,
Or a revolution,
Because the world will change for the better,
Past perfection.

The world will move forward,
Fueled by hopes,
And beliefs.

Once Upon A Time In Mexico

In Mexico, the people lived peacefully in their polytheistic society. One day, Spaniards came to the land of Mazatlan in ships, riding horses. The Mexicans did not know who these Spaniards were, and the regal creatures they rode upon were not familiar to the people. The Mexicans, although with some dissension, concluded that they were gods. They assimilated the Spaniards into their society and welcomed them into their land. The Spaniards decided to play along, but they knew they had to be meticulous with what they said or did, as they planned to conquer the land, and because of this conspiracy, they came to be known as the Conquistadors.

As the Mexicans came to know more about these Spaniards, they started to lionize them. They were fascinated by the technology they had in Spain. Because of this idolization, the people were fooled and deceived the day that the Conquistadors overthrew Great Mexico’s power.

Without A Gun

Morning comes,
My alarm goes off,
I get up off of those papers,
Those empty papers,
That I haveto turn in,
I slovenly put them into my binder.

Walking into the entrance,
I can't believe I have the audacity,
To go in unprepared,
My life in strands,
It's like walking into war,
Without a gun in my hands

Teachers tell me to take out the paper,
And I do as I'm told,
It rankles them,
As they watched my empty page unfold.

I stay there,
Lackadaisical as I came,
And take the rebuke,
My expressions the same.

She takes the paper,
He rebuffs my work,
It's like walking into war,
Without a gun in my hands.

Book Review: Among the Hidden

Among the Hidden

Margaret Peterson Haddix has started an intriguing sequence of books called the Shadow Children. The first book, Among the Hidden, is about a young boy named Luke Garner who is forced to live as a recluse because he is a third child. The thing about being a third child is that they are illegal in this dystopian society created by Margaret Haddix. This law is enforced by the population police, and it’s penalty, is death.

Luke, although completely terrified of the population police, has a thirst for adventure. He wants to go out and explore the world like the people in the books he read (the books that keep him entertained while locked up in the attic. His curiosity towards the outside world leads to him looking out of a small vent that he has in his room with a view of his whole neighborhood, where he analyzes all of his neighbors. Studying their homes and lifestyles, even though he doesn’t know their names. He fills this lack of information by calling the families by the attributes they consist of. A family that does sports everyday is the Sports Family, a family with a lot of birds is the Birdbrain Family, a family with all blond hair is the Gold Family, and so on. So after weeks of familiarizing himself with his neighbors, he sees something very odd in the Sports Family’s house. A child, in a house where two others, already live…

This is a start to a great series of books. If you’re looking to be entertained for a long time, I suggest you start with Among the Hidden by Margaret Peterson Haddix.

My Sister

Is a peacemaker,
Stopping me from being infuriated.

A savior,
Picking me up when I'm down.

An executioner,
Hurting all that hurt me first.

She is a fragile glass,
One push,
And she breaks.

She is a strong wind,
Pushing against my back,
Urging me to keep on going.

Because of her I'm resilient,
Because of her I'm resistant,
Because of her,
I'm stronger.

Confessiopn Tuesday

Memoir Monday

Papers,
Scattered across the room,
No pens to be found,
My binder,
Hidden beneath the mess,
And I can't make myself finish it.

The memoir,
At the tip of my tongue,
But not yet onto the keyboard,
And written on the screen.

The math problems,
Are a mystery,
How should I know how to complete them.

Looking at it all,
I realize,
How disorganized I am,
How messy mi life is,
And how confused.
I have always been.

Daniela

My sister and I used to be the same,
When people talked to us on the phone,
They mixed up our names,
We used to like the same music,
We used to like the same shows on TV,
We used to like to do the same things.

But now my voice is different,
I know like harder rock than she does,
I bore myself with the episodes of meaningless crap she likes to watch,
And we never do anything together.

Though our relationship is falling apart,
I like to cherish,
The little things,
We have in common,
It's what keeps us together,
It's what makes us siblings.

Slice Of Life Thursday

Minutes go past, like people passing through times square. Helplessly, I watch as the night goes away. I don't know what to write about for my Slice Of Life. The words that come out on the screen have no continuation. The key on the keyboard that I have most hit is the backspace. Nothing to write about, and it's almost twelve o'clock. I wait until that time, to see if I think of something, but no. It is twelve, and there is not one word on this post. I close the screen, and turn off the computer. I call it a night, and go to sleep.

WWWednesday

My Wordly Wise Wednesday is about the abhorrent topic, Megan Fox being kicked out of Transformers 3. I honestly think that transformers will be amiss without Megan Fox. I also think that Michael Bay is an irascible idiot, I will give him a tirade about how Megan Fox is the best actress of transformers and that firing her was the most despicable thing he could have done. He impels me to smack him across the face with a decepticon. Maybe my profound love for Megan Fox can have something to do with this rant, but I know that I speak for most people when I say: Not having Megan Fox in Transformers will rankle viewers everywhere and Michael Bay should be rebuked.

Mentor Texts

I hate mentor texts, and everything that you use them for, mainly because all teachers tell us to use our own words, but when we use mentor texts, we're using the other writer's essence, instead of our own. I think that we should not have mentor texts because having a mentor texts eliminates the "voice" part of your writing, and if you ask me, i'd think that voice is pretty important in any assignment for english.

Memoir Monday

I got to the party late, at night. I took off my sweater, took my phone out of my pocket. I didn't even have time to look back before miguel poured the freezing cold bucket of water on my head. I remembered that i was suppposed to bring extra clothes and a towel. Crap, I forgot. I stood there with water trickling down my neck and into my shirt. Not long after, the cake was brought out at which point everybody was throwing cake around, and I was the main target. Then i remembered again, the invitation, bring extra clothes and a towel. So I stood there, wet, cold, and with my shirt smelling of chocolate frosting. Maybe next time I should listen to instructions.

Wordly Wis Wednesday or something

Anonymous

97 Chill Lane

Coolsville, Epic Land 12345

September 8th, 2010

Dear Tisha,

How are you? I have been working on this letter all day, and I must admit that it was quite a surprise when you made that spontaneous modification to our assignment. Though I should have seen it coming, due to your love for Wordly Wise words. Anyways, I think that this prevalent recurrence must stop. We think it's a normal blog entry, then we see your guile towards us eigth graders. You should atleast instill the change before we get our hopes up. Because then we won't have to extricate ourselves from our original idea of what we were going to write. Mrs. Meadows, it is imperative that you read this message, and it is pivotal that you take action.

Your friend,

Dr. Castillo

P.S. Ten wordly wise words. Because I'm just that cool. B)

Confession Tuesday

My confession Tuesday is about doing my work in the day. Every day, I try desperately to do my homework in the day, but in the end i always get bored and end up watching TV and falling asleep. Then in the night, right before going to sleep, i start doing my homework (although I'm still distracted by facebook and youtube) and falling asleep late, and regretting it in the morning.

Memoir Monday

I wake up on a saturday morning,
I leave my dark-cold room,
And go out into the warm-sunny kitchen.

That's when i see him,
My fish still hasn't woken up.
He was still asleep, his belly was facing upward.

I tapped the glass,
And tapped again,
Saying, wake up Goldy.

But it was useless,
I tapped in vain,
I soon realized,
My Goldy was dead.

Slice Of Life

Rushing through papers,
books,
folders,
To get the one homewok that matters,
My dad's coming in 10 minutes,

Rushing through questions,
graphs,
equations,
To finish the work,
My dad is here, I'm not finished... Crap